


To Reach The Stars

by halstiel



Series: To Reach the Stars [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gore, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, MCD, Major character death - Freeform, Post-War, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halstiel/pseuds/halstiel
Summary: Only you can choose to succumb to the darkness within.{Available to read in Russian here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/5836692}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is very dark and descriptive. Please, don't take the warnings lightly.  
> ~  
> Available to read in Russian, courtesy of empty_thoughts, here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/5836692 ! Thank you so much!

**s e l f**   **-**   ** _m u t i l a t i o n_**

          _noun_

**the mutilation of _o n e s e l f_  **

**especially as a symptom of**

**mental** **or _e m o t i o n a l_   disturbance**

* * *

 

Draco stood motionless in his personal bathroom. He stared at the pristine porcelain tub, gleaming from the house-elves care for it. He stared at the white, tiled floor. At the cream-coloured walls. At the bare shelves. At the silent, Muggle mirror. 

(The Ministry had decided that anything that had any kind of magic ingrained in any of the artifacts found in Malfoy Manor that they were to be considered Dark and confiscated immediately. Draco tried to get angry, but all he felt was weary acceptance. It was a miracle that they allowed the house elves to stay, but then, they must have realised they were being cruel? Not only could the Malfoys not properly take care of themselves without them, which of course became ammunition to taunt the once formidable foes, but the house elves were distraught at the idea of being given clothes.)

He stared at himself for a moment; something that he hadn't allowed himself to do ever since Harry Potter had attacked - no, marked - him. His face was gaunt. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they looked like bruises. His grey eyes that had only seemed to get darker and colder as time went on. The Dark Lord was dead, there was no denying it this time.

Draco Malfoy's mind and body lived. His soul, however. His heart. They were as dead as the Dark Lord that used to haunt these hallways.

He continued to look down at his body as he shrugged out of his clothes. His mother would be appalled, but frankly, Draco could care less. His eyes were latched on the scar that started from his chin, down to his abdomen, to right above his pelvis. It was a long, clean cut. Made by a simple spell that came from Potter's wand.

Honestly, Draco was glad it had scarred. He was glad that the Saviour of the Wizarding World had Marked him before the creature had _gifted_ him with the Dark Mark.

Draco shuddered and walked up to the bathtub, putting the water on as hot as it can go. He shifted away from the steam, fidgeting impatiently. Then he paused, realising that he had felt something for the first time in ages. It vanished in the blink of an eye, but it was still there.

No matter. He'd be dead soon, anyway.

He glanced down at the bath and saw that it was filled, almost, to the the brim. Draco turned off the faucet and grabbed something tiny out of the pocket of his robe before getting inside.

He immediately felt the _too hot! get out!_ reaction but squelched the urge to flinch. Soon enough, he would get used to the scathing hot water. And he did.

(Too many times had he done this, but Draco always backed out. Like a coward.)

He slowly opened the palm of his hand to reveal a thin piece of metal. Incredibly sharp. Painful. 

Soothing.

Draco raised his left arm, leaving the Dark Mark on display for him to see. It was an ugly thing, but no matter. It'll be gone soon. He heard the mocking laughter of Albus Dumbledore, but swallowed hard and blocked out the sound.

He stared at the piece of metal for a moment, before he placed it against his skin. He felt a brief moment of regret that he had no wand to perform " _Sectumsempra_!" like Potter had, but he had no wand. Still in possession of the Saviour.

Draco pressed hard, the metal quivering slightly in his hand. Draco looked down, where the thin line should be, but frowned when showed no sign of a cut; it was still only the top of the Dark Mark. Forcing it down more deeply, he started his next row, whimpering his approval as beads of crimson began to weep from the wounds. His mind was blissfully silent.

He continued until the entire patch of skin where the Dark Mark resided was flayed open and strips of skin began to peel off and float in the water. He watched, fascinated, his mood light and hysterical laughter on the tip of his tongue. He watched as the water turned from clear to baby pink and finally to the colour of the punch Slytherins would usually drink at their house parties.

Draco found it ironic that the day he was going to die was the day Potter was born. He finally gave in to the urge to laugh.

His last coherent thought was: "Do I hear my mother and Harry Potter exchanging pleasantries?"

* * *

Hogwarts was the last place Draco wanted to be. A coffin would have been more preferable, residing in the catacombs underneath Malfoy Manor, where countless other Malfoy heirs were buried.

He shuddered at the thought. _No_ , Draco decided. _That's not where I want to do. I want to be cremated and have my ashes thrown into the ocean_. He thought about it for a second. _Or, perhaps, thrown in the face of someone I don't like. Maybe Potter would suffice._

Instantly, he felt . . . not guilty, per se, but bad. It had, in fact, been Potter that he heard talking to his mother. 

He had come to return Draco's wand.

If only Draco had waited one more day, not only would he have been able to use Sectumsempra, but he would have been able to use magic from his own wand. Of course, he's disregarding the fact that the wand doesn't work as well as it used to. Pity.

His mother's screams still echo in his head from time to time. Like now. She was the one who insisted he come back to Hogwarts for his Newts. Not that he particularly needed them; no one would hire a Malfoy.

Draco's startled out of his thoughts when someone taps his shoulder, bringing him back to the Great Hall.

No, not only someone. Potter.

Draco spared him a glance before staring back down at the table.

"Malfoy," Potter started. Oh, boy. "You mind if I sit here?"

Draco bit back a snide remark and barely held in a sigh. "Don't you have enough people worshiping the ground you walk on, Potter?" he said, his tone half-hearted and weary.

He swallowed. He'd have preferred snide over weak.

Draco looked up at Potter. Wonder Boy didn't look embarrassed or even angry. He looked dreadfully amused. "Yes, I suppose I do. Lucky for me that I won't get that treatment from you, yes?"

And Potter sat down at the Slytherin table, looking comfortable and at ease with the defected, lonely Death Eater.

* * *

 "Where are your friends, Potter? Shouldn't you be off with them, finding out the latest thing wrong with Hogwarts? Or, perhaps, fighting another Dark Wizard?" Draco forced disdain into his voice, tired and on edge. Potter had been following Draco around for the first three weeks of the semester, claiming that he wanted to start over and become friends. Draco swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued. "Or perhaps, you already are. What have I got planned to torture innocent first years, Potter? _Hm_!"

They were in Potions with Slughorn. Both had been partnered together and Draco was stirring the potion far too quickly, but at the moment, he could hardly care.

Potter looked at Draco, startled. "The only person you want to torture is yourself," he said, his voice almost angry, and instantly looked sorry he said anything.

Draco's mouth opened and he let out a little mewl that was a mixture of outrage and hurt. He dropped the silver mixing rod into the cauldron as anger flooded through his system, boiling in his veins. "I don't need your pity, Potter," he said slowly, enunciating every word. He fled the room, making sure he grabbed his wand before he left.

Just as he was darting around the corner, he heard a cauldron exploding. He didn't feel satisfied. He felt empty. Draco ran towards the Eighth Year Tower.

It wasn't before he was locked in his room and that the door was warded that he  finally allowed himself to slow down and breathe. His lungs felt like they were on fire and Draco was sure that his right shin was about to fall off. Regardless, he forced himself to walk into his bathroom and to put several extra wards on the door for protection. 

He tore off his robe and threw it on the ground, before focusing on ripping off the left sleeve in his shirt. Draco stared down at his bare arm. 

The skin tissue was healed and the Dark Mark was wonderfully disfigured. In some places, you could still see dark patches where the Dark Mark used to be, but mostly, all you could see were cuts. Many were scars. Tiny, deep and a shade darker than the rest of his skin. Some were new. Some that he did by hand, others he did with a nice cutting curse. Nothing major.

Until now, maybe.

Draco pointed his wand at his arm, starting where the original Dark Mark's skull had started. " _Sectumsempra_!" he shouted.

Draco didn't know how he forget the sensation of the curse.

It wasn't like the sharp pieces of metal that dragged across his skin.

It wasn't like the _Diffindo_ that didn't go deep enough to relieve the guilt in Draco's mind, but far enough into the skin to mark and scar.

It reminded him of the Cruciatus curse. Wherever the curse hit you, it would sink deeper and grip its' claws into you and rip you apart from the inside out. Draco didn't scream the first time Sectumsempra hit him.

He did, now.

* * *

It was harder, trying to survive the school year. It felt like sixth year all over again, but this time, there was no Dark Lord with his wand pointing at his mother, " _Avada Kedevra_ ," on the tip of his tongue. No, the only turmoil that Draco had to face was his own.

Draco was forced to go see Madam Pomfrey because of the Sectumsempra. It wouldn't stop bleeding and Draco thought he might actually die from it. Not to mention the pain, but Draco had felt high on the pain. Laughing at the most inappropriate times. She had been horrified by what she saw and asked who had done it, but Draco had merely said, in a childish giggling voice, "It's a secret, Madam Pomfrey. You wouldn't want me to give away his secrets, would you?" That was all Draco had said.

She wasn't able to heal it completely and Draco had seen her too late to pour dittany on the wound to stop the scarring. Draco didn't care.

At all times now, though, Draco had cuts on him. Not only on the Dark Mark; some on his hand, some on his other arm, even a few on his thighs. He didn't particularly like to do it on his right arm, since that was his dominate arm, but he actually felt giddy every time he dug deeply into his right thigh. He carves words into his thighs and watches the blood drip onto his mattress with a happy sigh.

Potter had apologized profusely for what he said, and even though Draco hadn't said he forgiven him, in any way, shape, or form, he still followed him around, acting as though there friends.

He thought about that as he carved the word Potter into his left thigh one night.

* * *

Snow littered the ground and everyone was excited for Christmas.

Draco was drowning. 

It was harder and harder to focus on his studies. He kept his room dark and sometimes slept through morning lessons. 

Potter had become Harry somewhere along the way and he continued to be his main support. Sometimes he beckoned him out of bed to go watch the stars from the Common Room window. Other times he'd force him to wake up in classes, making self-deprecating jokes in order to try to cheer Draco up.

It wasn't working, but his fake smile seemed to be getting better as time went on. Harry was still worried, though.

The cuts on Draco's left arm and thighs were becoming more jagged and deeper. He just wanted to feel _something_.

He wrote to his mother, saying he was going to stay at Hogwarts for the break and she told him she understood.

She didn't.

Harry stayed with him and held his hand on January first.

* * *

The first time Harry kissed him was on February fourteenth.

They were alone in the Common Room and it was four a.m. and Harry had told him his secrets. How he was able to destroy the Dark Lord. How he sometimes still hears echoes of the Dark Lord's laughter in his head. How scared he was when he saw Draco in the bathtub and how he begged deities he didn't know existed to be able to save him.

Draco, in turn, told him about the darkness in his mind. His mother's screams. How sometimes he can't breathe. How he feels like he's drowning and doesn't know how to get out of this immobilizing depression. How he hurts himself to feel something, anything at all.

Harry had laced their hands together and kissed him tenderly. He was warm.

And Draco had felt alive.

He didn't cut for a whole day.

* * *

The first time they tried to do anything sexual, Draco wasn't able to get hard.

No matter how good it felt, no matter what Harry did, Draco couldn't get hard.

Draco cried, begging Harry to understand that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't know what was wrong, that Draco loved him.

Both had froze. Harry told him that he loved him, too. And even though Draco couldn't get off, and neither could Harry, for that matter, Harry still worshiped Draco's body, kissing Draco's cuts and making him feel like there might be a chance for them to both be happy.

Later that night, with Harry sleeping soundly in Draco's bed, Draco hurried to the bathroom and slit his wrists with a razor he stole from Dean Thomas.

* * *

Harry urged Draco to stop hurting himself, but he can't.

He can't stop.

* * *

Draco ran.

He was cold. He was empty. 

He told Harry to leave him alone. That he never wanted to look at his face again.

He wrote to his mother, begging for her forgiveness and telling her how much he loved her and that she should become friends with Aunt Andromeda and that she should try to mother Harry Potter because, "Mother, I love him so much. Mother, I love him and he's going to be heartbroken and he shouldn't be. Not over me. I'm nothing and he's everything."

He took out the small portrait of Severus Snape he kept in his pocket and told him that he'd be with him soon and locked it away when he started shouting at Draco to talk to him and not to do it.

He told Hermione Granger that he was sorry for calling her a mudblood and for everything that he had ever done to her and to look over Harry.

He told Ron Weasley that he was sorry for ever insulting him and that he never should have been prejudiced against blood traitors and that now they had something in common. Draco Malfoy's a blood traitor, too.

He had laughed hysterically and they had both looked at him with concern and Draco had begged them to tell Pansy Parkinson that Draco Malfoy was sorry he could never have said goodbye properly.

And Draco had ran all the way to the top of the Astronomy Tower.

* * *

He was about to hurl himself off the edge when two strong arms snaked around his waist. Draco screamed. "No! Harry, no!"

"Draco, I won't let you do this!"

"Yes, you will!"

"Draco, no, you can't!"

"Yes, I can! Do you think this is a game, Potter?! Do you think this is a game? I'm done; I'm finished! I lost! I'm just worthless, Death Eater scum and I am nothing compared to you!" Draco was able to wretch himself free of Harry's arms. "I'm in love with you, but love isn't enough! Love can't save either us now!  _PETRIFICUS TOTALUS_!"

Harry was forced immobile and Draco caught his body before he landed on the unforgiving stones. "I can feel something again, Harry. Happiness. Harry Potter, you gave me happiness." A tear leaked out of Harry's eye but Draco wiped it away. "You find me when you die, all right? I know what you want, Harry. Fall in love with someone who is your equal. Have children. Explore the world. When it's time, you reach for the stars. You'll find me there." 

He gently kissed Harry and walked towards the ledge. He thought of their first kiss while lifting his wand and whispered, " _Expecto patronum_!" Draco gasped, smiling through his tears, staring at the doe in front of him. "Tell Hermione Granger to come to the top of the Astronomy tower, quickly." Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and begged. "I know you're my magic and I know you'll disintegrate when I die, but please, can you give him some comfort? Please. That's all I ask." The doe blinked and leaped away to find Hermione. 

Draco didn't move until the doe came back and curled next to Harry. Draco put his wand on the ground and whispered, "Thank you."

Draco Malfoy fell off of the same ledge that Albus Dumbledore had fallen off of.

Harry Potter threw off the spell and screamed.

* * *

 

  ** _s u i c i d e_**

                _noun_

                **the  a c t  of t a k i n g**

**o n e ' s  o w n  l i f e**

**v o l u n t a r i l y and i n t e n t i o n a l l y**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter's Perspective.  
> unedited

Harry Potter had held his breath when he knocked on the door of Malfoy Manor. He was glad he saw a house-elf open the door and greet him. When Narcissa Malfoy came into the foyer to exchange pleasantries, Harry felt only a tiny bit disturbed and asked to see Draco.

She had paused and, after a moment, said, "Very well. Follow me."

Harry didn't pay attention to where they went; instead he focused on the layers of dust on everything. He focused on the _click, click_ of Narcissa's heels on the wood and mostly tuned out whatever she was talking about with the Ministry, humming whenever it seemed appropriate. He smelt the musty, mouldy air and knew exactly when he smelt blood.

"Stop," he murmured. Narcissa did as asked, raising an eyebrow. "I smell blood."

Her face turned winter white. "Draco," she breathed and ran into the left door.

Harry followed her quickly, brandishing his wand to see if there were any immediate threats and ran as soon as he heard Narcissa scream.

It was a dreadful sight and Harry thought it might have been one of the most horrifying things he ever saw.

His eyes were open and dark. Draco's lips were parted in a lazy smile. His blond hair was short and stained pink from the water.

His arm was a mess. The first two or three layers of his skin had been torn off and was floating in the water. The Dark Mark was completely destroyed. Veins leaked blood and in some areas, the bone was showing.

Harry got to work quickly. "Mrs. Malfoy, you're going to need Blood-Replenishing Potions, as well as anything for pain. Dittany, he will most definitely need. Perhaps anything to fix organs, as well. Oh, and Circulation Potions. I'll heal what I can."

"Potter?" Draco had whispered.

Relief had flooded through Harry. "Yes, it's me, Malfoy."

He frowned. "Will you use Sectumsempra on me, again?"

Harru had froze and pointed his wand at Draco's arm. "No, Malfoy." He began singing softly the incantation that Snape had used two years prior on Draco.

"Pity."

For the first time in years, Harry prayed. _Please, let me save him. Don't let him be another casualty in this war._

* * *

 Draco Malfoy lived.

Harry had been so relieved and his happiness seemed to last for a few days. Draco's arm would forever bare scars, but everyone had scars.

He went back to Hogwarts to help with the restoration and helped them build the Eighth Year Tower.

He went to McGonagall's office and asked her if she would invite Draco Malfoy to come back for his Newts. She had hesitated and asked why.

"Because we all deserve second chances. Acceptance is the first step to redemption."

She wrote a letter to the Malfoys while he was still in her office.

* * *

 Before returning, Narcissa Malfoy owled him.

_Will you look after him?_

Harry responded with vigour.

_Of course._

* * *

Harry Potter had had no intention of beginning to like Draco Malfoy. He supposed that's why it happened. 

He saw him struggle. He saw the cuts. And still, he offered him help and acceptance whenever he could.

Harry knew when they fought in the Potions room, Draco became worse. Draco was able to cast with both arms and was ambidextrous. However, when he began to favour his right side, Harry knew.

He stole Blood-Replenishing Potions and Pain Potions and apologised until Draco snapped, "It's fine, Potter! It's fine!" and grabbed the potions, leaving Harry with a stupid grin on his face.

* * *

Hermione noticed it first.

"Harry, do you fancy Malfoy?" she asked. She had her answer when his face went beet red. Hermione lowered her voice. "Is he hurting himself?"

Immediately, Harry was serious and shook his head. "I- Not that I know of."

They both knew he was lying, but she didn't bring it up again.

* * *

He was getting worse and Harry felt helpless in a way that reminded him of the war.

He stayed at Hogwarts to offer him comfort.

He began to hold his hand to offer support.

He became more clingy and touchy the more worried he became.

He subtly healed the cuts he saw on Draco's hands and wrists.

He kissed Draco on the most romantic night of the year, but it didn't feel romantic. He felt drunk with happiness and desperation to save the boy who was beginning to fade away.

* * *

 There were good moments.

Those moments where Draco flung half-hearted insults Harry's way, or how he smiled shyly.

Those moments when they studied together and Draco would get exasperated that Harry wasn't focusing on his charms homework.

Those moments where he impatiently tugged on Harry's hand when he was in a hurry to get to class on time.

Those moments when they both felt happy and in love.

* * *

The first time they tried to have sex, Draco couldn't get hard.

Harry didn't mind. He loved Draco regardless of whether or not they could have sex. And he found out that Draco loved him, too.

He pretended to sleep when Draco went into the bathroom. 

He healed the cuts on his wrists as soon as Draco fell asleep.

* * *

 He should have known.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should have _fucking known_! 

The doe curled up around Harry as he screamed.

He screamed when there were arms encircling him.

He screamed when the doe pranced around him, trying to get him to calm down.

He screamed when he realised who the doe belonged to.

He stopped screaming, sobbing his grief instead.

He envisioned the first time he kissed Draco and whispered, " _Expecto Patronum_ ," without a wand.

The stag didn't burst out of Harry. It weakly limped towards the doe.

Harry watched with silent tears as they entwined together.

Harry watched as the doe disappeared, the stag fading as well. 

Harry crawled towards them, pulling away from Hermione and Ron and whoever else was there to pick up a silver ring. One that was delicately carved into ivy and had the engraving of the Malfoy seal on the inside of it. He slipped it on and only then allowed himself to be comforted.

Only after he tried to jump himself.

* * *

 Narcissa became like another mother to Harry. She moved into Grimmauld Place with him after he graduated. She refused to let him fall into the same depression that Draco was in and kept him busy. Harry could no longer use magic properly; because of this, Harry was forced to do everything the muggle way. Narcissa said it was because it was effected by his emotions. He believed her.

Only six people attended Draco's funeral. Harry, Narcissa, Hermione, Ron, Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle.

Pansy Parkinson sobbed the entire time and said that he was one of the only friends she ever had she could rely on to help her.

Gregory Goyle cried silently, saying that Draco protected him when no one else would and was the only one who believed in himself and Vincent. He had no Dark Mark, because Draco was able to stop it from happening.

* * *

 Narcissa encouraged Harry to travel.

He went to Italy with Narcissa.

He went to France with the Black sisters and Teddy.

He went to Pakistan with Hermione to see if they could find out more about the Potters.

He went to every ocean with Narcissa, dumping Draco's ashes in each one.

He went to the United States to study psychology.

* * *

Harry Potter earned his Masters degree in psychology and campaigned for the Wizarding World to integrate mental illness awareness with other magical traumas.

His magic began to work again as he campaigned and he signed up to begin Healer training.

* * *

He succeeded. In mere years, breakthroughs continued with the young Harry Potter and he became a powerful Mind Healer.

By the time he was thirty five, he was training Mind Healers himself and had his own practise.

In bouts of depression and grief, he confided in Narcissa. He never took off his ring.

* * *

The first time Harry was with another man sexually, he couldn't get hard. He apologised profusely and Apparated right into Narcissa's sitting room and sobbed.

It was supposed to be a quick fling, but he couldn't get Draco's eyes out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking that those blue eyes weren't dark enough, that his hair was too curly, that his skin was too perfect and that he wasn't lean enough.

He told her he wished he could join Draco and she shushed him, saying that while Draco would be horribly jealous, he wouldn't want you to remain so unhappy.

Harry sobbed harder.

* * *

He never got together with anyone after that.

Instead, he counseled orphans.

* * *

Harry Potter became a parent at forty.

He adopted two children, brother and sister. Both eight months old.

The little girl had pale grey eyes and dark, curly hair. Harry named her Ruby Remus.

The little boy had vivid green eyes and platinum blond hair. Harry sought out Narcissa and she named him Scorpius Sirius.

* * *

When Harry introduced Ruby to Hagrid, he cried and almost crushed Harry in a hug. Harry felt happiness bloom in the pit of his stomach and realised that, though his grief would never go away, he could still be happy.

* * *

Harry adopted another child three years later, though he was already a teenager. He had hazel eyes and dirty blond hair. He had scars on his arms and cigarette burns on his back.

Harry had saved him from his abusive parents.

His name was James.

* * *

Hermione Granger-Weasley watched Harry with worried eyes, whenever he came around. Which wasn't often. Harry claimed it was because he was too busy.

She had her doubts, but didn't push it.

* * *

Ron Granger-Weasley studied Harry with tired, contemplative eyes, whenever they ran into each other. Which was too often, as Harry was usually called to help soothe victims' of crimes.

He loved his work, Ron could tell. But he buried himself in it.

* * *

Ruby and Scorpius loved both of their fathers unconditionally. 

They knew that Father died before they were born.

They knew that Dad (Daddy to Ruby, even as she grew older) would always cherish and grieve him.

They knew that he feared that they would leave him, too, even though he decided to send them to Beauxbatons.

They knew that he, too, loved them unconditionally, and knew not to be jealous of the other children he was taking care of.

They knew that he wanted, no, needed to save as many lives as he could from the battles that raged in the mind's of young people.

They graduated Beauxbatons at sixteen, both at the top of their class.

Ruby followed in Daddy's foot steps and began studying to become a Healer.

Scorpius didn't; instead, he became an Unspeakable to study the mind, as well as to study spells that Heal faster, better, and are more reliable.

Ruby finished Healer training at eighteen.

Scorpius became a proper Unspeakable at nineteen.

* * *

James joined the Aurors and focused on helping children get out of hostile home situations.

He fell in love with the work, as well as his partner. 

They were married in July.

* * *

Narcissa died when Harry was sixty.

They had known it was coming, but it still hit him hard. 

She had told him she wanted to be cremated and buried next to the tiny bit of Draco's ashes they had buried in the church down the street from Grimmauld Place. 

He did so without question and his children hugged him when he sobbed and they left him alone when he asked, since he wanted to talk to their father.

"Draco, it's been too long since I've properly talked to you," Harry said haltingly. "I haven't taken off your ring. In fact, I wear it everyday; I don't even take it off at night. And before you start, I know it's a Malfoy heirloom and is probably worth everything in my Gringotts vault. No need to. . ." Harry trailed off. 

"Draco, I'm sick. Very sick. I didn't even tell Narcissa, and I haven't told James, or Ruby and Scorpius, or even Teddy, though I think he suspects . . . Soon, I'll be reaching for the stars, love. Perhaps too soon, but I think I've already been livin' life on borrowed time.

"I love you, Draco. I traveled and I became happy and I had my family. But you will always be my one true love."

Harry left the graves to tell his children.

* * *

Harry Potter died in early June at sixty-one.

All of his children were present and all heard him say, "Don't mourn, my darlings. I'm reaching for the stars; my Malfoy is waiting and I know how impatient he can be."


End file.
